The Dead and the Living
by AGirlAndABeast
Summary: The wall has been breached. The dead and the living cannot coexist.


**Title: **The Dead and the Living (1/?)  
**Author:** Demelza  
**Disclaimer:** Game of Thrones and its characters belong to GRRM and HBO. I'm just borrowing them here for a little while. No infringements of any copyrights are intended.  
**Warnings: **Major character death  
**Summary: **The wall has been breached. The dead and the living cannot coexist.  
**Author's Note: **An older fic, with a couple tweaks.

vv

Heart pounding in her ears, her world feels like it's twisting around her, spinning and twirling in all directions at once. It makes her footsteps stagger, ice and gravel crunching beneath her boots with each step she attempts.

"Sansa!"

She hears him, like she's done before in so many of her dreams. Only those dreams are partial memories, and they rush at her so fast they knock the wind out of her. She falls to her knees, the sharp stones piercing her skin, the frozen dampness making her shudder.

Everything is a bright blur, when she sees his smiling face in her mind, and it's then that it hits her. He's Tyrion Lannister. He's not the enemy. Never was. He's her friend.

He always was.

The happiness she remembers feeling with him tightens her chest so much she can hardly catch her breath. All the fantastical adventures she'd imagined them having come at her, wild and fast. Just like the way her heart beat when she was around him.

"Sansa."

His voice is breathless, and when his arms go around her, so warm and comforting, it shakes through to her very core.

Her head's hurting so bad it's a struggle to think. She remembers things. Little things. Like that unmistakable, indescribable scent about him. It's musky and sweet, it's a combination of all the good things about him, of the memories they'd shared. He'd saved her from his wretched nephew once. Ate the overcooked peas she'd served him.

They'd been married before the eyes of Gods and men alike.

She remembers now. She remembers more.

Attempted murder. Hers. A second forced marriage. Brutal rape at the bastard's hands. The white walkers coming. Their entire world coming to end. Death. Hers.

"Ty-Tyrion..." she breathes, clutching onto his coat.

"This is-all my fault," he says, his voice so pained she can hear he's crying. "I should've... I should have protected you, Sansa."

But the white walkers weren't his fault. Cersei's betrayal wasn't his fault. No one could have known what it would be like when the dead crossed the line and found their way to the living.

She feels his arms tighten around her and she looks back at him, her own tears flooding her eyes. "You silly Demon Monkey, you," she says light-heartedly, the pain in her head worsening when she tries to smile. She wishes she could see him clearly. Wishes she could see the scar he'd gotten while saving King's Landing, and his green eyes gazing back at her in that way he always did. "It's happening, isn't it?"

He doesn't answer. It had happened to so many of the Northerners.

The change.

She knows it won't affect him. He's special. Just like Jon and his Queen wife. Bran had told her so.

Tyrion's breathing is deep. It's fast, and he's trembling along with her.

She can feel it happening. The change throughout her body. It's a slow-seeping coldness, reaching deep within her chest.

"Don't-Don't go silent on me," she whispers. She reaches her hand to his face, and gently caresses his bearded cheek. Her touch causes his eyes to close, and she weakly whispers, "Let me hear your voice."

He swallows, opens his eyes and stares down at her and she knows inside he's blaming himself for what's happened.

"I wish things had been different."

She smiles, rasps a chuckle. "I lived because of you."

"No," he says, and he touches her cheek with his right hand. His touch is soft, his skin warm, but he's trembling with her. "You died because of me. You all will. I... I failed."

"We're all going to die someday."

"Yes," he says, and he swallows again. "But you shouldn't be, not now. Not because of me, Sansa."

"I'd rather—" She pauses, catches her breath. "I'd rather die here in your arms than go... any other way."

"I'd rather you lived," he cries.

She caresses his cheek once more, her hand shaking as she wipes away a tear as it escapes his eye.

"And I did. With you. The Disgraced Daughter and the Demon Monkey."

"We were so much more than that," he says, voice soft.

She offers him a tender smile, inhaling gently, when her head suddenly stops hurting. The pain and pressure have gone, and she chuckles lowly. "It... it doesn't hurt now. Maybe... maybe I'm different, too?"

A sob escapes his lips. She really is glad that in the moments before her death she is able to be with the one person in her life who truly saved her. She'd been terrified of him that first day they met. Thought his words of kindness were more Lannister lies. Now? Now there was no fear in her mind. Not of him. Not even of death.

"Sansa—I," Tyrion begins, struggling with his words.

She moves her fingers to his lips, silencing him. "We'll see each other again," she promises, and she blinks to try see him more clearly but her eyes are fogging over fast.

"Sansa...!"

"I loved you," she whispers. "I loved you, Tyrion."

And the world goes white.

A tear drops onto her cheek from Tyrion, and he tries to find his breath but he can't.

She's gone.


End file.
